


He Likes Coffee

by heinesteiner



Category: DOGS (Manga)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-01
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heinesteiner/pseuds/heinesteiner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Heine discovers that, indeed, Badou also enjoys a cup of coffee in the morning. It's the first time they meet outside work and the first time they fully acknowledge their feelings for each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Likes Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> ... I wanted to write something cute.

Each morning he would begin his day with coffee. It didn’t wake him up, but it tasted good. Heine was unsure if Badou did the same thing, but he found out that morning when the redhead brought a cup over. He was sluggish and unhappy, complaining about Heine not lending him a hand that one time for some reason or another.

Heine had trouble remembering what he was going on about. That seemed to be happening a lot more often and it was beginning to grate on his nerves. Everything from his life before, no matter how hard he tried, was engraved and etched into his unstable mind. It wasn’t talked about, but Badou could see that these things bothered him often. 

Neither of the men acted upon it. They let history run its course. Heine had gotten into the routine of apathy and indifference to people. Badou… well, he seemed to carry a sense of hopefulness. Some parts were refreshing. 

But nothing could take away the pain that they kept within themselves, bottled up and churning like a storm. The pain that hid in their shadows as they walked, talking over a job after coffee. An aching feeling that would linger at each casual reminder. Life could be so hard sometimes.

He didn’t think of himself as a good person. Heine was a soldier and a fighter, but he was in no way good. Time and time again he strived to be good, to push himself to help someone he cared for, but things got in the way. The monster inside him would take over and tear people apart. Words or bullets, it didn’t matter. He was not built to be good, but to follow orders. The hard and tired eyes of his were the eyes of someone incapable of feeling love, so he told himself.

Whose orders, now? Who would watch the want and desire in his eyes as he stared at the people he shot up moments before? Badou would, yes, and he would be there on a nicotine withdrawal induced high. Both men would be cackling, the howling splitting the silence of death.

No one would order Heine around anymore. Armed and dangerous. He was labeled with these words, but Badou did not seem to care. Heine couldn’t understand why Badou liked to be around him. Yes, he told jokes upon occasion and he could be alright to be around. The white-haired man was not much of a talker, though it never seemed to bother either of them. They just got along now.

They never spent much time together still. It was only the jobs and work. But when Badou visited Heine that morning on his own terms Heine couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased. And when Badou tugged him to the side of the street to whisper something in his ear he couldn’t help but smirk, teeth showing. 

So when Badou kissed him for the first time, he wasn’t displeased. In fact, he kissed the man back, craving for the embrace of another human that could relate to him. He tasted of cigarettes and smoke and coffee and it was kind of gross. Yet somehow his hands found themselves in Badou’s pretty red hair, wanting to hold on to something that seemed to love him. 

Badou seemed to feel the same way, gripping at Heine’s old and tattered shirt. When they broke away he began blabbering. There was an attempt to try to excuse his actions, but he himself disregarded that and confessed how he liked Heine, even if he was “pretty damn fucked up”. 

Red eyes watched him intently before he leaned in to brush Badou’s hair from his eye. Their lips were centimeters apart now. Then they were together again, Heine shutting his eyes and Badou his one. Something about it felt very right. Even the way the two fit together, arms around each other, was good. It was new. Something to hold on to.

And so they kissed a bit more on the side of the street, forgetting the world around them.


End file.
